Chapter Three

“Tam? Is that you?”

The voice cut through the air, sharp and unexpected. Tamriel’s head snapped up, his heart giving a sudden, unsteady lurch. For a moment, he couldn’t believe it. His eyes searched the fading light of the afternoon, which had slowly begun to dwindle, casting long shadows in the dense forest clearing where he had waited for hours.

Tamriel had wondered, even feared, that Idris might not come at all. The hours had dragged on, the sky’s golden hues turning to deeper oranges and purples, yet there was still no sign of him. But now, here he was. Standing at the edge of the portal, looking exactly like Tamriel remembered him—and yet, entirely different.

Idris hadn’t changed so much on the outside. He was taller now, the kind of tall that made his silhouette seem broader. His frame was solid, muscular in a way that suggested he could wield a broadsword with the same ease as he carried a conversation. He had a beard now, rough around the edges, but there was something comforting about the familiar warmth of his expression. His eyes—deep, brown, endlessly expressive—were unchanged, still full of mischief, kindness, and an unspoken promise of laughter. His lips still held the same quirk to them, a smile always hovering on the edge of his face, like a secret he was just waiting to share.

If Tamriel hadn’t known who he was supposed to meet, if he had stumbled across Idris on any other day, there would have been no mistaking him. He would have recognized him immediately.

Tamriel rose to his feet, a hesitant smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He wasn’t sure how to make this easier for Idris, but he would try. He had to. He could only imagine what the other man must be thinking, how utterly bizarre this whole situation must feel to him. A stranger, standing on the edge of a magical world, with no idea what was going on, just as confused as Tamriel had been all those years ago.

“I suppose you have questions,” Tamriel said softly, hoping to ease the tension.

Idris’s laugh cut through the awkwardness, a quick, incredulous sound that broke the heavy air between them. “Just a few. But I think they can all be summed up as: what the fuck is going on here? Where are we? How are we married? Are you a wizard?”

Tamriel let out a long breath, the weight of the situation pressing on his shoulders. “You are in the land of Faerie. We are married due to the promises we made each other as children. And no, I am not a wizard. I feel nothing but sorrow about this, Idris, truly—I did not wish for any of this to come to pass. I was young, and foolish, and did not realize that making such a vow with a human would be binding. Had I known, I would never have married you.”

“But we were kids,” Idris said incredulously. His expression twisted into one of disbelief. “How can kids get married?”

“Rules are different here,” Tamriel explained, trying to keep the explanation simple. “We Fae cannot lie. Even the lightest of promises are binding. I pledged myself to you, and took the ring you offered me, and now I cannot swear myself to any other cause while we remain tied together.”

“This is—” Idris paused, a harsh laugh escaping him as his hands rose to cover his face. He shook his head, almost as if trying to wake himself from a dream. “Damn. I can’t believe this is real. So, what, we need to get divorced?”

Tamriel nodded, his voice steady. “Yes.”

Idris stared at him, as if searching for some clue that this was all some kind of elaborate joke. “Because you’re a fairy, and fairies have some fucked up system that allows kids to marry.”

Tamriel nodded again, but bit his tongue before correcting Idris's pronunciation of "fairy"—there were more important matters at hand.

Idris scrubbed his face, fingers combing through his now-disheveled beard, his expression one of a man trying to make sense of the impossible. Tamriel couldn’t help but think that for all the strangeness, Idris was handling this remarkably well. He wasn’t panicking. He hadn’t fled back through the portal. He hadn’t even fainted.

Idris laughed at Tamriel’s unspoken observation, the sound genuine despite everything. “That’s my training, I guess. Paramedics have got to learn to leave the panicking behind.”

Tamriel was puzzled. "Paramedic?" he asked, the word foreign on his tongue. The term held no meaning to him, though he recognized the general idea of healing. Idris was a healer, then, perhaps a sort of human equivalent to a Fae healer. Tamriel felt a pang of guilt wash over him. Idris’s nobility, his kindness—he didn’t deserve to be caught in this mess.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you,” Tamriel said softly, “I never wanted this for you.”

Idris’s voice softened. “It’s not your fault. But… I just want to help.”

Tamriel’s brow furrowed. “This is not your fault.”

“I know,” Idris replied, his voice steady, though there was a hint of something deeper in his tone. “But I’m sorry all the same.”

It was a strange sort of empathy, Tamriel thought. This human capacity for understanding, even when the apology wasn’t warranted. It was something Tamriel had never fully grasped about humans. He felt a strange, warming sensation in his chest, a feeling that made him glad—no, grateful—that Idris had retained his compassion, even after all these years.

Idris shifted the weight of his bag on his shoulder and sighed. “I know this is the least of my worries right now, but I told my friends I’d meet them in about an hour. I don’t want them to freak out if I’m late. Do you think this’ll take long? Not that I don’t want to spend time with you—hell, this is insane, but kind of cool—but I don’t want anyone to worry.”

Tamriel smiled faintly, already walking toward the portal. “You should be fine. Time passes differently here. Sometimes it’s faster, sometimes slower, but—” He stepped a hand out through the portal and felt the sharp contrast of cold night air. “Yes, I believe we are moving faster than the human world right now. An afternoon here should pass no more than an hour at most in your world. A week here is barely more than a day.”

Idris raised an eyebrow. “How can you tell?”

Tamriel withdrew his hand and shrugged. “How can you not?”

“Touché,” Idris chuckled, his smile easy and wide. He squared his shoulders, readjusting his bag. “Well, let’s get on with this then.”

Tamriel nodded, stepping forward into the woods, Idris falling in step beside him. He had intended to hurry, to get Idris through the ordeal quickly, but Idris had other plans. Every few steps, he would stop to crouch down, eyes wide in wonder at the flowers, the flickering lights of distant fireflies, the occasional pixie darting across the air. Idris’s curiosity seemed boundless, and Tamriel found himself caught up in the rhythm of their walk, answering Idris’s questions with more patience than he’d ever thought himself capable of.

It was oddly refreshing to see the land of Faerie through fresh eyes, to hear the world’s wonder echoed in Idris’s voice. The sense of adventure, of discovery, was so contagious that Tamriel began to forget the burden of the bond they shared. For the first time, he wished they had met under different circumstances—not as children with a foolish promise, but as adults, free of fate’s cruel hand.

They continued walking, Idris asking questions with increasing excitement, his curiosity never tiring. Tamriel, too, found himself more and more invested in their conversation. It was a strange thing to feel such ease in another’s company, and yet, as they approached the Queen’s Court, Tamriel knew that the bond between them could not remain. But for now, he allowed himself to enjoy these moments of normalcy.

“Are those leaves glowing?” Idris asked, pointing to a tree whose leaves shimmered faintly in the dusky light.

“What’s that creature called?”

“Can I eat that?”

Idris paused, a new question forming on his lips. “If time moves differently here, then how old are you? 18? 100? I’d believe anything at this point.”

Tamriel gave a small, rueful smile. “Almost thirty.”

“So what? Time moves out of sync but averages out?” Idris said, as if trying to make sense of it. “That puts you just a year younger than me.”

“Something like that,” Tamriel agreed with a small chuckle. “Otherwise, things would be terribly confusing.”

“Sure,” Idris said, “because everything else I’ve seen so far makes total sense. But—”

Idris stopped in his tracks, eyes wide, staring at the Queen’s throne room with an expression that shifted between awe and disbelief. He had been following Tamriel through the dense woods, a steady stream of questions tumbling from his lips, but now he was silent, his attention wholly consumed by the sight before him. The Queen’s throne room, though, was unlike any other building in Faerie. The land itself had always been one of unity with nature, where Faeries built their homes low and unobtrusive, nestled between trees or within caves, allowing the natural world to envelop them. The Queen’s throne room, however, stood as an impressive anomaly.

The room was a towering structure of stone, its twin spires stretching upward, piercing the sky in defiance of the surrounding woodlands. The arched windows were immense, their shapes accentuated by flying buttresses that looked as though they had grown directly out of the earth, vines crawling up their sides. The roof was wide open, permitting a cascading waterfall to flow freely down the inner wall behind the throne, its rushing water filling the air with a soothing hum. But what caught Idris’s attention the most—what made his breath catch in his chest—was the sight of the frozen waterfall. It had stopped mid-fall, encased in thick, clear ice, its rushing torrents now nothing more than a solid sheet, shimmering faintly in the dim light.

The room itself was draped in winter’s embrace. Ice clung to every surface, tendrils of ivy snaking across frozen sheets, sharp stalactites hanging from the branches of trees that had grown through the vast windows. A soft carpet of white lilies lay beneath their feet, preserved in the frigid air, while the walls glowed with the soft light of fire gems—faintly flickering flames that hung in intricate patterns along the ice and stone. Tamriel noticed with some relief that it was merely winter here, nothing worse. The Queen’s moods were reflected in her surroundings, and this cold, this pristine beauty, was a sign of a hard front—an intimidating display. If the room had been barren rock, though, it would have meant something far more dangerous. When the Queen was truly enraged, her surroundings would become as inhospitable as the darkest parts of Faerie.

Idris muttered under his breath, his eyes still wide with wonder, "Holy shit." His voice was soft, almost reverent, as he took in the sheer magnitude of the space. Tamriel’s stomach churned. As much as he wanted Idris to experience the beauty of Faerie, he regretted not preparing him better for the intensity of the Queen’s Court. He had no idea what would happen now—Idris, with his unknowing human sensibilities, could easily offend the Queen if he didn’t tread carefully. No matter how kind or well-intentioned Idris was, in the Queen’s Court, even a slight, no matter how small, could be met with consequences far worse than either of them could anticipate. And that would fall entirely on Idris.

“Idris, welcome,” the Queen’s voice sliced through the room, cool and measured, causing both Tamriel and Idris to turn toward her. She rose from her throne, the fabric of her gown flowing behind her like a shadow of the cold itself. Her movements were graceful, but there was a predatory edge to them as she glided across the ice toward Idris. Tamriel could feel his heart speed up, the tension in the air thickening as the Queen approached. The Queen’s eyes, sharp and predatory, settled on Idris. Without a word, she reached up and gently, almost affectionately, cupped her hand beneath his chin, tilting his face so she could study him more closely.

Tamriel’s breath caught in his chest as the Queen’s gaze lingered. There was something calculating in her eyes—something that sent a chill through Tamriel’s veins. Idris, to his relief, stood still, a slight tension in his posture, but he made no move to pull away. He remained perfectly composed, his expression guarded but not overtly fearful.

“A pity,” the Queen murmured after a moment, her voice smooth like ice. “You are almost far too beautiful to send back to the human realm.” Her words were a low hum of regret, as though the thought of Idris leaving was a loss to her in some deep, personal way. She tilted her head slightly, a smile playing on her lips. “You would have made a fine addition to my Court, had your marriage to Tamriel come to light sooner.”

Idris, ever the optimist, gave a light, half-hearted chuckle, though there was no warmth in the room to match it. "That’s a bit of a relief then," he said, his voice tinged with a nervous humor. He clearly hadn’t sensed the shift in the Queen’s demeanor, hadn’t understood how dangerous his words might be.

“A relief?” The Queen’s voice sharpened, turning cold as ice itself. Her hand fell away from Idris’s chin with a sudden, harsh motion, and the room seemed to freeze in response. The sound of cracking ice echoed throughout the room, but Tamriel’s heart pounded louder than anything around them. He silently cursed Idris for not being more careful, but it was too late now. Idris had spoken his mind, and that, in the Queen’s Court, was often a grave mistake.

To Tamriel’s surprise, Idris didn’t shrink back, his expression growing even more relaxed. “It’s very nice here, really,” he said, voice more composed than before, “but I think I’d rather stay on Earth.” He smiled again, though his lips were tight, unsure whether his words would bring more trouble.

The air around them seemed to freeze in response, and the Queen’s eyes narrowed dangerously. The sharp, biting scent of lilies filled the room, and Tamriel’s throat dried at the smell—an omen of something far more dangerous. The Queen’s wrath was a slow burn, but when it erupted, it could destroy everything in its path.

"Tell me, Idris," the Queen purred, her voice smooth but laced with malice. "Did Tamriel explain to you why your marriage must end?"

Idris blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation. His brow furrowed slightly as he considered the question. “I assumed he wanted to marry someone else or was worried I wanted to marry someone else,” he said, his voice uncertain but trying to remain neutral.

The Queen’s smile grew wider, too wide, and Tamriel felt his stomach tighten. He realized with a sickening certainty what the Queen was intending. She wouldn’t strike at Idris with physical force—no, that would be too direct, too crude. The Queen was far more subtle, and her weapons were as sharp as any blade.

“Tamriel here was due to be sent to join the Wild Hunt,” the Queen continued, her voice taking on a sinister edge. “He has offended me, you see, by refusing to pledge allegiance to my crown as one of my knights. Such a slight has consequences.” Her smile faltered slightly, her voice turning cold and biting. “He can no longer remain in my kingdom. So, he shall be sent to join the Hunt, where he will live out the rest of his days, far from his family and the world he knows.” The Queen’s eyes glinted as she leaned closer. “His family will miss him, of course. But I am sure they will be thankful to be free of his… insubordinate taint.”

Tamriel’s heart plummeted as he watched Idris’s face. He could see the moment when the full weight of the Queen’s words landed. It wasn’t just about the marriage—it was about more than that. If they dissolved the bond, it would be as good as exiling Tamriel from everything he knew. From his family, from his world. The thought of being cast out, alone, to live among the Wild Hunt for eternity filled him with dread. But worse still, the look on Idris’s face as he grasped the implications of the Queen’s words made Tamriel’s chest ache.

Idris turned away from the Queen, looking at Tamriel with a mixture of confusion and helplessness. His eyes widened, his brow furrowing slightly, as though searching for some kind of answer to this impossible dilemma.

“It is better this way,” Tamriel said softly, trying to reassure him, though his voice was thick with emotion. “This bond was never fair to you. If we break it, both you and my family will be free. I am willing to trade my freedom for that.”

Idris shook his head, his jaw tightening as he looked at Tamriel with an intensity Tamriel had not expected. "No."

“No?” The Queen’s voice was dangerously quiet now, the air around her thickening with tension. The ground beneath her feet seemed to creak, fissures appearing in the ice as if it too was reacting to her fury. The delicate scent of lilies had grown even stronger, cloying, overwhelming.

“No,” Idris repeated, his voice firm, unwavering, though he still refused to look directly at the Queen. His gaze never left Tamriel. His eyes, once filled with uncertainty, now held a hard determination that Tamriel hadn’t seen before. “Tam, you say we need to break this bond because it’s not fair on me, but I don’t think it’s fair for you to be forced away from your family like this. I know we don’t know each other, but I don’t want that. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Tamriel’s breath caught in his throat. Idris’s words cut deeper than any sword. He had compassion, yes, but he also had a fire in him that Tamriel couldn’t ignore. It was a fire that made Tamriel’s heart ache, a longing for a life he could never have.

A small, sad smile flickered on Tamriel’s lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “There is no other way,” he said softly. “We cannot stay married.”

“But-”

“A middle ground, perhaps,” the Queen interrupted, her voice once again smooth, though now it had a gleam of cruel amusement in it. She leaned back in her throne, her eyes sparkling with a dangerous, calculating light. “Let us see if there is a way to make this… more interesting.” She had hidden her anger, had buried it down beneath layers of ice. Tamriel felt a chill run through him that had nothing to do with the cold around them.

The Queen’s voice rang out with icy finality, her eyes gleaming as she delivered her decree. “Idris, you shall stay here for a while so that you can better make your decision. A week, let us say, where Tamriel will treat you as a husband should, and give you ample time to discuss this issue. At the end of the week, you must make your choice: stay here, at Tamriel’s side in my Court, or sever your bond and return to your own world. Do you agree?”

The words hung in the air like a weighty curse. Tamriel’s stomach churned. “No,” he said quickly, his voice sharp, his mind already racing with the consequences of the Queen’s offer. A week—one full week—was far too long. It would only serve to deepen the pain, to cloud Idris’s judgment, and ultimately break what fragile bond they had left. Idris would not stay, he could not—Tamriel refused to let him fall into this twisted trap.

But the Queen, with her ever-present grace and icy composure, raised a delicate hand to silence him. Idris’s eyes flicked nervously between the two of them, seeking the right course of action, and Tamriel could see the flicker of indecision in his gaze.

Idris should refuse. Idris had to refuse. If he agreed, if he allowed himself to be lulled by the Queen’s false promises of a peaceful decision, it would only make things worse. A week in the Queen’s Court—under the Queen’s watch—would be unbearable. But before Tamriel could speak again, Idris’s voice broke through, quiet but certain.

“Alright,” Idris said after a moment of silence. “I agree.”

Tamriel’s heart sank. His eyes widened in disbelief, but he said nothing. This was it. Idris had sealed their fate, and the consequences of that agreement would be far-reaching, no matter how the next week unfolded. The Queen’s smile deepened, her eyes flickering with satisfaction as though she had won some small victory.

“Good,” she said softly, her voice light with amusement. She reached out, her fingers brushing against Idris’s cheek in an almost affectionate gesture. Tamriel caught the subtle flinch in Idris’s posture, but if the Queen noticed it, she said nothing. She simply patted his cheek, as if the entire exchange had been a game to her.

“Go now,” the Queen said airily, turning away from them and gliding back toward her throne as if she had already forgotten about them. “I shall expect your decision on the eve of your eighth night.”

Tamriel didn’t hesitate. He immediately turned to Idris, his voice low but urgent. “We need to leave,” he said softly, his hand settling on Idris’s arm. Idris didn’t flinch this time, though his body was stiff with the weight of the moment. Tamriel steered him away from the Queen, out of the throne room, and into the cold corridor beyond. Idris’s feet slid slightly across the ice, but he followed without protest.

Once they were far enough away from the Queen, Tamriel slowed their pace. The air outside the throne room felt less oppressive, but Tamriel’s thoughts still churned, a deep unease taking root in his chest.

“This was a mistake,” Tamriel said, his voice tinged with frustration and regret. “What good does a week do? At the end of it, you’ll either leave with a heart heavier than before, or remain here with me and slowly grow to hate the life and man you’ve been tied to. This is not the way.”

Idris shook his head, his eyes softening with something that might have been sympathy, though Tamriel wasn’t sure. He could hear the sincerity in his voice when he spoke next.

“I can’t offer my freedom in exchange for yours,” Idris said firmly. “I’m sorry, but I— I have my family and my friends and my job, and I was going to adopt a dog and—”

“Idris,” Tamriel interrupted gently, his hand resting on Idris’s arm in an attempt to calm him. “I am glad. This is not your fight, and I would not have you be any part of it.”

Idris hesitated for a moment, before his gaze hardened with resolve. “But I will be a part of it.” He inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his decision. “We have one week, right? One week to make sure you can enjoy your last few days of freedom. You deserve time to say goodbye to your family, to make the most of your home while you still can. It’s not much, but if I can’t give you your life, I can at least give you a week. And yeah, maybe it’ll make it harder for me to walk away from you in the end, but… I’d happily exchange that for giving you this.”

Tamriel’s chest tightened as he listened to Idris’s words. The guilt that had been gnawing at him for weeks seemed to subside, replaced by a faint flicker of warmth in his heart. “You are a good man, Idris,” he said, his voice soft but sincere. “I didn’t expect this of you, but… you are good.”

Idris didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his face fell as if something had just occurred to him. “Shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I guess this means I won’t be making it to Addison’s tonight after all.”

Tamriel gave a sympathetic smile, the brief flicker of warmth in his chest growing slightly. “It would appear not,” he said. “Come, once we reach my house, I’ll show you how to send a message to your friend. That should ease their concern, at least.”

“Owl mail?” Idris asked, forcing a half-laugh. Tamriel wasn’t sure why that was funny, but he joined in the laugh anyway, feeling the tension in Idris’s shoulders loosen just a little. Anything to make him feel less burdened.

Idris let out a long, deep breath, as though he were expelling his worries into the cool night air. “It could be worse,” he said, his voice lighter now. “At least I have underwear with me.”

“Good,” Tamriel said with an encouraging smile. “Focus on the underwear.”

Idris blinked, momentarily stunned by Tamriel’s attempt to ease the situation, before his lips twitched into a smile. “Shit,” he muttered again, shaking his head. “It’s going to be a long week, isn’t it?”